Impulse
by Periwinkle Watson
Summary: AU "All I want is an adventure. And I can't have that here. But today for the first time in my life I think maybe I can. With him." Miley makes an impulsive move to run away with a boy she hardly knows. And what she learns about him isn't all good.


**OMG. She actually made her deadline!  
It's true, it's true. And not only did I meet it, but I made this story work for _me_! I am so happy with how it turned out! I hope you guys do too! **

**So please leave a review! Because I love you. And you love me. ;)  
And whoever knows where 'Sandy-Hair-Boy' is from gets a dedication.  
Whoop whoop.**

**Alright, kiddies, I leave the rest to you.**

**DON'T FORGET: the soundtrack!! (Located in my profile) :D**

**~sxg****  
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**Impulse**

**Chapter One:**

"**What I Think of You"**

I've been sleeping in for days now.

Why? Because it's the first week of my first summer out of high school. I have nothing else to do but occasionally show up for work. I'm a part-timer anyway—they don't really need me. Besides, my sister, Ashley, owns the place so it's not like she won't cut me some slack.

Secondly, I have no friends. I mean, what's the point? They're useless. Well, the ones I've been subjected to, anyway. To these people, _friend _means shopping/movie buddy. It means: don't bring up your personal problems because I'm not cut out to deal with them. I'm not willing to help. I'd rather pretend the world is just one big party.

Third, my Mom hates who I am. It turns outs my shopping/movie buddies aren't the only ones who prefer to pretend. Mom still thinks I can turn things around and become Ashley-Number-Two: the debutant, the beautiful blonde—the beautiful, _successful _blonde—the girly-girl. And she refuses to let me be the person I am: the free-spirited, the messy brunette, the tomboy. Because what she doesn't understand is that, in the end, none of her silly debutant programs, or frilly pink business suits matter. None of it will keep her satisfied or protected. And when she falls down, they won't be there to catch her.

Is that what I want? Absolutely not.

So what _do_ I want? Just three things. Enough cash to keep sheltered, clothed, and full. A friend I can count on through the ups and the downs. And lastly: an adventure.

The problem is: I can't find it here.

So why should I try to pretend that I'm okay? When it is _so_ clear that I'm not.

-xxx-

It's 1:30.

I guess I should get up. Now's a good a time as any. Maybe I can get in a couple good chapters of _Wuthering Heights_ before someone catches me and insists I do something more productive than rereading my favorite book for the 15th time. Otherwise, I'm going back to sleep. Well … maybe I'll go for a walk or go to the mall (I actually have 12 bucks!).

I spring up, considering what I could buy for that amount, and hop into some jean shorts and a tank top. I don't even bother to pull up my mane of bedhead or glance in the mirror. It doesn't matter what I look like, the feelings of others won't suddenly change. I've given up trying to please. For a girl like me, it's futile.

Thankfully Mom isn't home (when is she ever?) so I don't have anyone to sneak past. I just grab my book, my keys, my $12 and head out. When I pull into the parking lot for the strip mall, where Ashley's awesome coffeeshop is located (_Iris _is its name), I'm excited that it's mostly empty today. No one can bombard me with their annoying presence. Except for Mom. But I automatically assumed she'd be here, holding her famous debutant class, right next door to _Iris_, so that doesn't really count_. _I mean, she's given the same I'm-disappointed-in-you lecture so many times, I've learned to just nod and ignore. It barely even irritates me now.

I get out of the car and catch Mom's eye in the large glass door she stands near. Mommy just glances at me, worry and regret etched into her features. I just stare, my eyebrows increasing downward. And then she straightens herself out and turns away, without even a _tsk_ or a grimace in response.

I think I like her lectures better.

Doesn't matter. Shake it off, girl, shake it off.

-xxx-

'_What the devil is the matter?' he asked, eyeing me in a manner I could ill endure after this inhospitable treatment._

'_What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!'_

'_They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me and restoring the displaced table. 'The dogs do right to be vigilant. Take a glass of wine?'_

'_No thank you.'_

'_Not bitten, are you?'_

Relaxing my face into a smile, I repeat one of my favorite lines: "If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter—"

"Hey Miley!"

Startled, I glance up, eyes searching the parking lot. Then I see a small posse of kids from my school. In the midst of them, is my previous best friend, Lilly. Ours eyes meet and she winks. Not in a demeaning way, but I guess it's supposed to be friendly. I think it just makes her look stupid. So I smile back.

The group, including the sandy blonde haired kid that said hello, casually walk up. I set my book down on my lap and smile semi-expectantly. Is this one of those 'let's converse a bit' things or 'we only came to ask for something' things?

"Sup guys."

They all say hi.

Lilly bends down to hug me. As she does so, she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispers in my ear, "Tell them I _ever_ read that book with you and your life is over, kay?"

My grin gets a little wider.

"So, what're you doing today, Miley?" asks Sandy-Hair-Boy with a pleasant smile.

"Oh, just reading the best boo—"

"Nothing!" cuts in Lilly. "Obviously, she's not busy." The other three teens, Nameless-Girl, Sandy-Hair-Boy, and Random-Wannabe-Guy all give her a speculative glance. I know the extremely uneasy feeling.

"No, Lilly's right. Took the words right out of my mouth … literally." I say with a laugh.

They chuckle too and Lilly sends me a sort-of grateful glance.

If there's one thing I hate, it's uncomfortable silences—and this was most certainly one of those moments. I had to smash this current atmosphere quickly.

"Do you guys want to get a drink?" I ask, gesturing with my eyes to _Iris_. "On my employee discount, of course." I smile, doing a little eyebrow jig.

"Yeah, that's so cool!" says Nameless-Girl.

"Thanks Miley."

"Sure. Go right in and tell Ash I sent you. She'll know what to do."

Finally, Lilly, Wannabe, and Nameless quickly rush in with gratitude, but Sandy-Hair decides to sit next to me.

"What? No drink for you?"

"Nah, I don't really drink coffee."

"Oh, well, Ash has plenty of other stuff there—it's not _just_ coffee—"

"I know. I just thought I'd hang with you for a minute."

Surprised, I turn away. Flattered, but nothing more. Well, maybe slightly irritated.

"Is that okay?" He clasps his hands together between his legs.

"Yeah, that's fine."

I pick my book up, sprinting through it to find my misplaced spot.

"So, Lilly sort of mentioned that you had this really cool talent—well, I think it's really cool, anyway—"

"Did she?"

"Yeah, something about name-guessing or whatever." His tone suggests he's waiting for me to jump right in and confirm this. I silently sigh. Or maybe it wasn't that silent.

Not glancing away from my page, I say, "She told you I can guess your name, I assume?"

"And get it right every time."

"Well, I really only need to guess your name once. Doing it again would be pretty superfluous, don't you think?"

"Superfluous?" He laughs.

"Yeah, you know: excessive, unnecessary, over the top…?"

He chuckles again, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever, you know what I mean."

I turn a page nonchalantly, all my senses fixated on just _trying_ to read. A bit annoyed, I guess, Sandy-Hair pulls the book away. "Come on, I'm trying to talk to you." He places it on the other side of the bench—out of reach.

This time, I sigh and it's redundantly clear.

"Alright, I will guess your name, if that's what you want."

"Yeah, that would be great," he says sincerely, scooting closer just a tad.

Clearing my throat, I full on stare at him. Staring. Staring. Staring. I take in every inch of his face, waiting for the inspiration to crash into me like the breaking of an ocean wave. And just when Sandy-Hair is about to ask another bothersome question, it does.

"Travis."

His eyes widen suddenly, but he immediately tries to wipe the shock out of his expression. He swipes at his nose.

Still staring at him, but this time with a proud, semi-smug look, I lean back.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah … yeah, you are." I nod and shrug arrogantly, like I knew it all along. He takes that as me flirting and quickly runs his fingertip down my arm in laughter. "How do you do it?"

I tug on my—oh, great! Of all the days to not wear sleeves, I choose today. Nice. Since it's the best I can do, I rub my arm uncomfortably. Thankfully, he suspects my sensitivity markedly—his face falls and he's obviously either guilty or surprised.

"I'm sorry," he starts to whispers, but just then, the "gang" comes back out and the tension has to be dissolved.

"Hey," I say, my voice a little scratched, "what took so long?"

Lilly rolls her eyes, "Your sister is like you but times ten better. She's the funniest thing ever!" Everybody laughs, agreeing, and I just sit there stunned.

"Yeah, she must be your Mom's favorite," says Wannabe. Nameless-Girl elbows him, but he's not taking the hint. "I mean, it's not even a competition. Ashley's like, really hot."

My face clenches up.

"Oh c'mon, David," Lilly says smugly, "Miley's pretty too. …Well, sort of. But you're right, she's way too antisocial to even _try_ to compare." Then she smiles directly at me.

"Hey, that's not right—" Travis tries.

"Oh, no, trust me, Travvy." She leans down to my face. "Miley knows _exactly_ what I think of her."

Instantly, I'm on my feet; I grab David's drink and splash it in her face. Then without a second to lose, I grab my book, ramming my knees into Travis's with a fierce glare.

"Oh my God, Miley, you're such a freak!"

I can't even hear them anymore, I'm already walking away. I close my eyes, listening to only the sound of my feet hitting the pavement. I take a deep breath as I suddenly start running. I drop my book and sprint until I'm half-way down the next block. Tears prick at my eyes as my heart pumps violently.

I hate this place! It's always the same! Always! I try to let it go, I try to swallow my pride and my anger—but these people are so disgusting that I can't help but vomit it all back up. I can't escape it. It's like I'm trapped in a cocoon that I didn't build. A prison for the innocent.

And all I want is freedom.

Slowing my legs, I jam my hands into my pockets. I walk alone, thinking through everything, thinking about my life, and everything I hate about it. I guess you could say I was reflecting. But it only made me angrier and angrier. Anger blinds.

Suddenly, the sky becomes dirty and grey and the rain falls. A torrential downpour. Literally, in seconds, I was soaked to the bone. But I kept walking, my skin as cold as dead fish and the beginnings of a rash between my legs from the damp denim. It itched like crazy. And I feel as if I have frozen from the inside out. But I don't care anymore. I just don't care.

Finally, the cement I walk meets tar. A street runs right through it and now I have a choice: keep on going or turn back. At just the thought of surrender, my anger blazes, ravished for another victim. My heart beats wildly and my eyes tear up from the rage bottled up inside, begging to be loose.

Without glancing to see the color of the light, I storm out onto the street. Suddenly, there's a horn blasting, fear shoots through me and I spin around disconcerted. Then the car comes right at me. Then a shout.

Energy pummels through me unexpectedly, a whirlwind of scenes flash before my eyes, and the next thing I know, I'm lying on the ground with a body on top of me.

There is a terrifying moment when I finally take a breath, in a slow motion daze, and then the realization floods instantly back. Now my tears are streaming down my cheeks. This can't be happening! What have I done? Please, please, God, no.

"I'm sorry, God—I'm sorry! Please don't let this happen to me! I'll do anything please—!"

All of a sudden, I feel the body move. I slide up and now his face is in my lap. Then, he groans, and lifts himself up, falling back on his knees.

"Are you. Okay." He asks, staring at me relentlessly, his face tired and ragged. My mouth hangs open.

The second my eyes caught his, a thousand colors fly through my body, and something amazing flashes before me. A spark bursts into a fire, and I instantaneously have an uncanny connection to him. Something great is there.

I try to shake it off, finally catching his words. _He_ was asking _me_ if I was okay?

"Are-are you?" I whisper.

"Why didn't you look where you were going?"

"You saved my life…" I say, still caught in a daze.

"Because you nearly got _killed_!" It's a slap in the face as I rush back to reality. "Watch out for yourself—not everyone will." He says with spite.

And with that, he stands and walks away.

Leaving me there, stunned.


End file.
